


Free Hugs

by docboredom



Category: Planet Booty (Band), TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Crushes, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, Hugs, M/M, also all of twrp and booty is there they're just in passing, don't think about the context of it all just enjoy the cute you assholes, like the kind of fluff that makes your teeth rot, nda alien shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/docboredom
Summary: “You’ve got one eye under that thing.” It feels weird to say. Impossible. Like he shouldn’t actually be saying it out loud, given the limits of the NDA, but he does anyways.“Yes sir!” More teeth show as his smile widens. His grip tightens too. This is the nicest standoff possible. “I could show you, if you’d like.”His grip goes slack at that and Sung has the fucking spirit of a saint to not look offended. He’s easy. Casual. More human than Dylan was expecting. “I think I’m good.”
Relationships: Dylan Germick/Doctor Sung (TWRP)
Kudos: 16





	Free Hugs

**Author's Note:**

> i have a picture of sung and dylan hugging at the luau and it's the cutest thing ever  
> so like twrpchord basically begged for this

“Hi. I’m Doctor Sung.”

Dylan’s eyebrows go nearly atmospheric at the sight of him. It, really. A cone has just entered the building. A walking, talking bottle of mustard. An alien, he has to remind himself; not even having the time to blink before said man-alien-thing is shaking his hand, grip somehow firm and comforting under the warm leather of his glove. “So excited to finally meet you. Thanks for being flexible.”

“Yeah. About that.” Josh has his eyes on the one that looks like he’s walked straight out of Cats on Broadway with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Dylan knows that look. Target acquired. Typical. Only Rob seems unfazed by all of this, but that’s Gwin’s state of being, and besides… he’s the one that set this up. This weird combination first meeting-mini tour clusterfuck. “Flexibility and a wide open schedule are two very different things, Doc.”

He’s still gripping Sung’s hand and Sung his as he shoots Josh a pointed look. Desperate much? He mouths. It’s Josh’s turn to look unfazed then, but he’s just being an asshole. 

“Havve and Phobos are on their way. They’re great.” Sung tells him, beaming under that safety cone. “Drummer and guitarist respectively, if you didn’t get a chance to read the file.” His voice says I don’t blame you. We get this all the time. Still.

“Oh. I read the file.” Poured over it really. When you’re forced to sign a non disclosure agreement in order to perform with them, you want to know what you’re getting yourself into. Sung looks pleased by this, Meouch looks bored.

One of them has got to give. It’s not a masculinity contest, by any means. It’s just a thing of being cordial. “You’ve got one eye under that thing.” It feels weird to say. Impossible. Like he shouldn’t actually be saying it out loud, given the limits of the NDA, but he does anyways.

“Yes sir!” More teeth show as his smile widens. His grip tightens too. This is the nicest standoff possible. “I could show you, if you’d like.” 

His grip goes slack at that and Sung has the fucking spirit of a saint to not look offended. He’s easy. Casual. More human than Dylan was expecting. “I think I’m good.” He tells him. This is such a weird pill to swallow, but they make good music, and Rob liked them… “Warm up?” He offers up, hoping to stop thinking so much about all of this.

And the thing in the alien’s chest lights up. “Now we’re talking bud.”

*

Five states. Six shows. And despite the initial eyebrow raising, the friendship is instantaneous. They pair off without really meaning to. Phobos and Rob. Meouch and Josh. Sung and him. Havve isn’t left out. Instead, he’s the parent of the group, hilariously enough, despite Sung mentioning something about him technically being the youngest. Herding them when they got too rowdy, keeping an eye out.

It’s never been like this. 

It’s fucking beautiful.

The connecting door between their hotel rooms is always open no matter where they go, and they’ve already managed to mix their clothes up one too many times this month. “I think… this is yours.” 

It’s downright comical to see Sung handling his sparkly underwear. It dangles off his fingertips, scandalous almost. “Unless Meouch has a secret I wasn’t aware of.”

Dylan goes to snatch them with a laugh, missing by a mile as Sung does a fancy sidestep. “Is his secret that he’s copying me, or that he’s a pervert that likes to wear other people’s underwear?” Now it’s Sung’s turn to laugh, a crowing sound that fills the room up. 

“Gross! That’s disgusting!” He’s all but cackling, earning him a fierce hushing from the peanut gallery, aka Josh and Phobos, currently housed on the queen sized bed watching some stupid rom com. “Fuck you Germick.” His core is doing that thing it does when he’s extra happy. Dazzling in it’s brightness. Dylan goes to grab them again, face hurting from how much he’s smiling. 

“Naw, fuck you, shorty. You’re a grown man. You can handle it.” The light dims and Dylan gives pause, looking up to see the cyclops smiling shyly. It’s not a look he’s used to, but it suits him. Dylan can’t help but cock his head slightly though, a “yeah?” moments from falling from his lips, and the other man seems to realize himself.

“Sorry. Just. I like that. Shorty. And like, normally people say that and I get pissed off, but you say it and-” 

Everything goes quiet. Meouch is smoking on the balcony. Havve is charging. Rob is showering. The movie’s hit some dramatic part. “I don’t know. It’s _different_ with you.” Sung finally murmurs. “You’re not like, an asshole.”

“God, I sure hope not.” He’ll miss him. All of them. They only have a few more shows to go before TWRP’s space bound. Leaving them here until who knows when. “Because if this is me being an asshole, I can only imagine what being a nice guy will be like, y’know.”

Sung flings the underwear in his face without any kind of warning as he offers him a winning grin and he can’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh.

*

It’s been six months and his palms are sweating.

It’s been six months and he’s losing it.

Josh calls him a school girl. Rob says “he gets it”. Life seemed to gray out after TWRP left, leaving everything dull in comparison, but they’re back now after bending all sorts of space time, being real Star Wars-Star Trek-Wibbly Wobbly Doctor Who about the whole situation. It’s been a year for them. More, even, Dylan tells himself. But only six months for them, all earth bound. 

God, he’s a mess.

Six months of looking up at the stars above the stars. Six months of going “I miss that lil man.” Six months of sighing. Six months of writing up what may the most on the nose song in the entire world and hoping Sung would like it. 

And now he’s here.

The door clicks open and Dylan jumps. Shake his hand, just like before, he tells himself as he stands. It’ll be a funny little throwback. Easy. Casual.

Except the moment he walks through the door of the Airbnb they’ve rented out, his cone off, his smile wide… Dylan simply lunges at him. 

And hugs the ever loving shit out of him.

“Oh!” It sounds surprised. Not bad surprised, which is encouraging, somewhat. The alien’s arms come up around him then to squeeze him back just as tightly, a funhouse mirror of their first handshake, just with more body parts. “A little warning next time, you bastard.” Sung whispers in a delighted voice against his shoulder. “You nearly knocked me over, asshole.”

Dylan doesn’t respond though, not right away at least, letting his eyes close as he fully enjoys the moment. Him and Sung. Sung and him. “I missed you.” He says after a moment, really, truly meaning it.

“I missed you too, Dylan.” Sung says, all smiles and tip toes. "I really, really missed you."


End file.
